


Sunday Morning

by XvoodooXXblueX



Category: Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XvoodooXXblueX/pseuds/XvoodooXXblueX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill and Byron have breakfast in bed, with a side order of naughtyness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning

Byron awoke that morning to bright sunlight and a dog barking in the distance. It wasn’t technically morning anymore, but Saturday patrols tended to last far longer than they did any other day, so most Minutemen took the liberty to sleep in for as long as they could. Most…

Byron turned onto his back and felt for Bill who should be lying next to him. He wasn’t, of course. The clock on the wall indicated that it was well after one in the afternoon and the sounds coming from the kitchen told Byron that Bill had long since been drawn out of bed by the daylight and the promise of food. Byron squinted at the ceiling and grinned, amused, because the outdoors and hunger were usually the only things that could steal Bill from his arms. Byron had often joked that he should feel jealous. Bill’s response was usually to bite his shoulder playfully and to tease that for a moth, Byron should be spending far more time pursuing the light. Byron’s usual response was to smile and to tell Bill that he was light enough.

Now, Byron sat up as Bill stuck his head around the corner, obviously checking whether Byron was awake. Byron met Bill’s warm gaze with a still-sleepy “morning,” Before Bill was gone again, leaving Byron to wonder what he was up to.

Bill reappeared a few moments later with a tray laden with a huge plate of waffles and mugs of coffee.

“Breakfast,” Bill announced, beaming. “Well,” Bill spared a glance at the clock, “lunch, maybe. But never mind.”

Bill carefully set the tray down in the middle of the bed and climbed onto the mattress. Byron let his eyes wander from breakfast to Bill and leant over the lot of it to kiss Bill the moment he was on the bed.

“Waffles?” Byron asked, vaguely impressed as he pulled back only slightly, though his hand had already pilfered the condiment from the tray. “And… maple syrup?” Now all Byron could do was grin.

Bill shrugged, lounging back on the bed languidly. “We have the time,” he said. And it was true. They didn’t usually make a big deal of breakfast, so why not do so when they had hours.

Grinning, Bill shoved a plate with a ridiculous amount of waffles Byron’s way and Byron could only shake his head, but his eyes showed gratitude. It was a known fact that Bill was convinced Byron didn’t eat enough and while Byron didn’t necessarily agree, he was grateful for the concern and, right now, for the maple syrup which Byron spread on his waffles lavishly.

Byron handed the bottle to Bill, making sure their fingers brushed, not even bothering to be subtle about it. Their relationship had long since passed the stage of subtlety and entered the stage of comfortable and often passionate.

Bill was busy loading his own waffles with syrup while Byron took the first bite, making an appreciative noise. It was deliciously sweet. Byron looked up from his plate when he heard Bill chuckle.

“What?” Byron asked with a grin.

Bill just shook his head, smiling around the fork in his mouth. He didn’t answer until he’d swallowed.

“You have a sweet tooth,” Bill noted. Byron just smiled in response and took another demonstrative bite of waffle.

When his mouth was free to talk once more, Byron smirked.

“You brought the syrup, so you must have had something in mind.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Bill corrected with a huffed chuckle. “Mom sent the syrup. It’s what she makes Sunday’s when it’s not eggs.”

Byron gave a short “ah” and shook his head with a fond smile. Really, Mrs. Brady would one day be responsible for both of them being too fat to move.

“Is that before or after church?” Byron asked, eyebrow raised teasingly.

Bill shot him a mock-shocked look.

“Before,” he then answered. “After, well, that would be lunch… again.” He chuckled.  
“Byron, when was the last time you went to church?”

Byron frowned, only partly feigning having to think about his answer.

“I might have been…16…”

*

Bill was lounging back on the bed, barely sitting anymore when Byron noticed it. It was tiny, a minute drop, but it was there, a small blob of syrup sitting on Bill’s chest. Byron’s eyes lingered there for a moment, before he set down his plate which was almost empty anyway. He only met Bill’s questioning gaze for a moment before crawling across the bed, head held just high enough that he could immediately dive in to lick the sticky substance off Bill’s chest in a long sweep of tongue. Bill’s rough laughter vibrated through the movement and Byron suddenly found himself pulled up by one of Bill’s arms.

Byron made himself comfortable on top of Bill, claiming his lips next. They still tasted of syrup and Byron took his time to lick them clean thoroughly. Bill gave a low moan into the kiss and his hands were suddenly on Byron’s back, running its length and beneath the waist band of Byron’s shorts.

Byron took this as an invitation to creep further up Bill’s body, ending up sitting in Bill’s lap, the breakfast plates long forgotten. 

Taking particular care to move slowly, Byron rubbed his groin against Bill’s, earning a gasp from the other man. Bill’s hand gripped Byron’s ass cheek harder and the other travelled back up Byron’s back to tangle in his ruffled hair.

“Better than church?” Byron asked, through a wanton moan.

Bill bucked his hips, voice laced with arousal as he breathed: “Yes.”


End file.
